


Nomadic Interests

by LazyAyze



Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Character Study?, F/M, Fluff, I think they're adorable, Inspired by the SI homescreen, Kaid has a grudge against the punch bowl apparently, idk - Freeform, we need more of these two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-11
Updated: 2019-03-11
Packaged: 2019-11-15 11:01:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18072191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LazyAyze/pseuds/LazyAyze
Summary: She's always had an eye for the complex things in life.





	Nomadic Interests

From the moment she entered the base, Nomad had felt as if she belonged. What little hesitance she originally had was gone with what she was met with, and was ready to pursue this new route of her life. 

She’d always wanted to come back to the UK, see the people and the sights a bit more, but with the international defense part of her contract, she’d get to see  _ more _ . With Rainbow, the more countries and scenes she would see, growing and feeding her need to just simply travel. But the people, persons of different cultures and viewpoints all stuffed into one military base, is what probably made it most interesting.

She’s taken to the evening with a single glass of scotch, meandering through the welcoming celebration crowd where almost all attention is on her or her colleague. She doesn’t mind it, quite frankly. Nomad’s talked with her new coworkers, gotten to experience the new atmosphere Hereford will bring her (although it may be a fake impression, but she won’t mind), and is getting to see the unknown through people rather than places this time, intriguing her overall than anything else.

But, for right now, she’d rather have a moment to herself.

Next to a vacant table in the canteen, Nomad stands, observing the room. She’s had few people come to her, some she has met, some she hasn’t, but as she’s towards the back of the room, the attention isn’t on her as much as it was earlier in the afternoon and evening. She mindlessly scrolls through her phone every once in a while, the majority of her mind still focused on the room, taking small sips from her glass and hearing snippets of some sane and some ridiculous conversations. 

This, the whole focusing on the environment thing, it isn’t new. And with the attention, she didn’t mind. Everyone she’s met today has liked her, from the Russians to the Canadians, and she’s enjoyed the newness of the place. 

She listened to Maestro boast about his too-long-to-be-considered-anecdotes anecdotes until she was saved by Alibi, she had chatted about art and exquisite foods with the knowledgeable Glaz, she talked with Twitch about mechanics while the other was trying to be somewhat intimidating. Now, she watches friend groups such as three of the french stand with each other, laughing comfortably, she listens to one of the Brits drunkenly yell for another shot while crawling over a younger man’s lap who holds a nonchalant expression, she watches a German get chased by his brethren, whose raging face and brown beard is covered in cake. 

She knows she’s definitely going to like it here, no doubt. 

With a quick glance at the time on her phone screen, the edge of her glass sitting lazily against her lips, a man slides up before her, smiling warmly and holding a plate of desert.

“Jordan Trace, nice to meet ya ma’am. It’s Sanaa, right?” The American asks, shaking her hand with one of his bandaged ones while the other holds a small plate of cake. 

“Yes, nice to meet you too,” Nomad nods, raising her glass to his red velvet dessert in welcome.

“Mighty fine of a gadget ya got there. Interesting piece of work for attack.”

Nomad thanks him, admiring his grin. “And may I ask what you work with?”

Thermite’s grin only grows, a mischievous glint in his eye as he cuts into his remaining cake with his spork. “One hell of a boom, ma’am.”

Nomad chuckles, confused yet still charmed. “I’m guessing I’m in for a surprise then, hm?”

“Right you are, but if you’re looking for a real surprise- hold on a sec,” He tells her around a mouthful of cake, amusingly enough. Then, almost comically, he reaches into the surrounding crowd, pulling another man to his side by his collar. “Erik, say hi to the fresh fish!”

Jordan turns the man around, patting his upper arm. The man, _Erik_ , now with a stain on his dress shirt from his spilled drink, fumbles for a few seconds and tenses with each touch Jordan gives him, looking startled before finally finding some ground.

“Uh,” he smiles awkwardly, “hi, Erik Thorn.”

“Sanaa El Maktoub, nice to meet you,” she smirks. Their hands meet halfway between them, formally shaking while the American noticeably glances at her missing fingers, raising his eyebrows.

“Same to you,” he says, quickly looking back up at her and giving a more confident nod before they let go..

Jordan smiles. “Well, ain’t that nice, you made friends, Thorn!” The Texan ignores the small glare the blonde man sends him as he continues to speak. “Anyways, now that we’ve got  _ our  _ introductions out of the way, I think I’ma go and cheer up your grumpy rock of a teammate.” He shoots his thumb over to where Kaid is, who doesn’t look to be enjoying himself. The three of them all look over, watching how Kaid glares at the punch bowl like it just insulted his name, career, and every single one of his life choices.

Nomad laughs again and nods. “You go do that. I warn you though, he’ll probably just ignore you.”

“Thanks for the heads up, lil’ lady,” Thermite salutes and walks off towards the commander, opening his arms and calling out his name like an old friend.

Nomad sips from her glass as she turns back to face the rest of her company, raising her eyebrows as she waits to see if he’ll say anything else.

All he does next, however, if shift his weight, obviously uncomfortable with being left here with a stranger, so she lets him go, exchanging goodbyes and watching him disappear through the crowd first.

  


_______

  


After a few more encounters, ranging from idle chats with Montagne to Mira drunkenly cursing in Spanish, making Jackal and Castle choke on and spit out their drinks, Nomad decides to head off. She thanks Six once again for this opportunity of a lifetime and briefly watches, right before she leaves, Kaid’s face morph with disgust after Smoke’s face gets shoved into the punch bowl the Moroccan man hasn’t left the side of for the past half an hour. She finally makes her way out the door, chuckling. 

When she pushes through the doors, entering the quieter halls, she sees another body leaning against the wall and scrolling through his phone, the alcohol stain on his shirt dried but still very much visible. 

Erik looks up from his phone, eyes wide and somewhat startled once again as he wasn’t expecting anyone. 

“How come you aren’t in there?” Nomad asks curiously, arching an eyebrow. Out of everyone she’s met tonight, he’s been the only one not really up to talking. He’s more reserved, definitely knows who he’s comfortable with and isn’t, and although Nomad knows he doesn’t know her, a part of her would still like to explore. The night is still young; she’d at least like to crack into him before calling it a night. 

He looks at her a bit nervously, but otherwise he seems like he’s at least able to be absorbed into conversation easily. Maybe he can talk, but would just rather not. Nomad can see him as the observatory type. “Oh, I’m just, uh, not one for parties, that’s all.” He looks back down at his phone for a brief instance, before he pockets it.

Nomad nods. “I understand. My partner isn’t one either. You saw him with the punch bowl earlier.”

He gives a toothless smile and nods his head towards the way Nomad just came from. “Where are you heading off to? That party’s for you, after all.”

“Thought I’d go to sleep early. Six has Jalal and I scheduled for some training simulations in the early morning for us to see how we get along with your crowd.”

Erik nods. “I’m scheduled to do the first and second runs with you guys.”

“I assume you are on attack with me?”

The American nods, smiling softly. Nomad notes that she’s already getting him to open up, and a bit faster than she thought she could at first. Maybe he just needs a bit more pushing. It’s obvious that he still has a lot underneath him though, some stuff that he won’t talk about. Nomad deems him one of the most interesting people here already, even if she’s had limited time with him, as with everyone else. “Callsign’s Maverick.”

Maverick pushes himself off the wall. “I think I’ll do the same and go to bed. You mind if I walk you back to your room?”

“Not at all,” Nomad smiles.

They make their way down the still somewhat unfamiliar halls, the commotion in the canteen dying down the farther they get. Other than them, the hallways seem to be empty, their footsteps echoing along the tiles. Nomad guesses that Maverick relishes the silences like these, seeing as he relaxes a bit more in the brief quiet between them, his blue eyes watching the tiles pass beneath his feet.

Nomad glances at him as they turn a corner, letting the quiet settle until he starts up again. He’s a man of independence, that’s for sure. Being thrown into conversations he’s not ready for clearly bothers him, but otherwise he’s confident with a tad bit of shyness. 

This is a kind of person she’s experienced before, and knows there’s definitely something even more interesting about him that lies beneath.

Beside her, he rolls up his shirt sleeves a bit as he speaks again, Nomad taking notice of the ink running over his skin. “So, how was your first day here? I can imagine is was pretty odd?”

She walks parallel to him, keeping a bit of space between them. “You’re not wrong. The people here aren’t what I’m used to. When did you join Rainbow?”

“Just last season, right before you. My first day, I saw one of the Chinese nearly stab a Russian with both points of a compass,” Erik says nonchalantly, but softly beaming all the less. 

Nomad laughs. “It’s definitely different from Morocco then, but I’m used to it.”

Erik nods, shrugging his shoulders. “I’ve heard you traveled a lot. Where all to, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Maverick’s eyebrows furrow with how suddenly bright Nomad’s smile is when he catches sight of it. “Where do I start? There have been so many. Philippines, Siberia, Columbia, Laos, Switzerland, to name a few.” 

The American, Nomad almost misses, hesitates before he sighs. What he says next, Nomad knows he doesn’t have to say, but he does. “I was in Afghanistan for a while. Went to some other Middle Eastern countries too, but mainly Afghanistan. Beautiful places, you know, regardless of what some say.” 

The end of his sentence had gotten softer, gently telling Nomad that his travels meant something as much as hers did. She’ll definitely have her eyes on him after this, she knows. There’s something to him that attracts her like a magnet. 

Nomad beams, oblivious to where their current destination is. “Everywhere is its own kind of beautiful. That’s one of the reasons why I still have so many places to go, like Myanmar or Georgia.”

They turn another corner and start down a different passage, the atmosphere still calm and quiet. Next to her, Erik laughs quietly (it’s the small things with this guy, Nomad fully realizes). 

“You have your whole life planned out already, huh? I still have no idea what I’m gonna eat for breakfast, more or less retire.”

“I like you,” she laughs, flattered, “You know, people usually ask me about my fingers first, not what I do for a living. This is a nice change of pace.” She waves her disabled fingers at him teasingly.

Maverick looks over at her, relaxed and not how he was earlier. “I guess I’m just that nice of a guy. But really, if you also don’t mind me asking, what did you do? Try and fight a bear in Syria or something?”

She holds her hand out, flexing her fingers and looking them over, all the while smiling. “Oh no, I got into a fight with a Maasai. You should see the other guy, he’s missing an eye.”

The other look intrigued. “Really?”

“No,” she shakes her head. “Frostbite. Kind of lame.”

“Still, remind me not to get into a fight with you.”

“Don’t ever try to fight me.” 

“Duly noted, but at least you can’t flick me off if I piss you off.”

Yep, definitely more relaxed, able to open up without the pressure of an atmosphere  or expectation bearing down on him. 

Nomad and him snicker, slowing down their walking and the former raising her half of a middle finger. “I still got half of a fuck left, mind you.”

The two completely stop their walking, laughing with each other at their newly found banter. Nomad, giggling, covers her mouth and leans against the wall. 

Suddenly, Maverick’s snickers stop themselves and he curses lightly. The Moroccan looks over at him, arching her cut eyebrow at him and watching him look around. “What’d you do,” she questions, amusingly accusing. 

“I got us lost, that’s what,” Erik digs his hands into his pockets, pursing his lips and trying to push down his oncoming smile. Nomad won’t lie and say he doesn’t look cute when flustered. “Yeah, that’s the medical wing,” he points to the door to the right of Nomad. “The barracks are on the other side of the building.”

When they both make eye contact, the only thing the two of them are able to do is burst out laughing.


End file.
